Leather and Lace
by crowscrow
Summary: There are many secrets. In one individual alone there could be hundreds—thousands. Even she was not above their amassing heap.


Story Title: Masked and Unmasked: Lace and Leather  
Universe: as canon as possible  
Word Count: 6,725  
Genre: Romance, Complete, One-Shot  
Characters: Visser One (Edriss 562), other  
Pairings: its a secret  
Chapter Rating: R  
Summary: Edriss reminisces on her secrets.  
Warnings: Language, adult themes, sexual content  
Disclaimer: Characters, quotes, themes, etc © K.A. Applegate and © other people, places, etc. No financial gain is made.

Author's note: I don't know.

R&R

Masked and Unmasked: Lace and Leather

There are many secrets. In one individual alone there could be hundreds—thousands even. It seems the longer said individual lived, the more those undisclosed little mysteries accumulated, so much that they became buried within the mind. Even she was not above their amassing heap.

Yes, even she, Edriss 562, Visser One of the Yeerk Empire, was guilty of many secrets. Some were trivial, others massive—so large there was no choice but to swallow them whole and send them deep down into the cracks where no one could ever find them. But life had moments of clarity, déjà vu, and other unexplained moments that sparked to the conscious mind before it could be smothered out by the enemy's foot. Those moments enveloped her, 'flashed before her eyes' as the human saying went, and she let them coerce her back to a moment in time where matters were simpler.

She went back to that night. It started at the opera house.

Of course, then she was still a respected Visser, had a tremendous grip on her host, her minions, and her own sanity. Things were going well; the infiltration of Earth was a slow and steady process, host by host, just as she planned. She couldn't have been happier. That _imbecile_ Visser Three was actually doing a decent job.

On the evening of her unscheduled appearance to meet with the idiot Visser, she took the liberties of her high rank for some much needed rest and relaxation. Esplin and his inept cronies weren't expecting her for at least another day.

So, she asked herself, why not take advantage of the splendors of Earth while she could?

The host she chose was not her own—not Eva—but a youthful, dark haired beauty she could dress up and play with like a child would their doll. She hadn't bothered to learn the woman's name. It didn't matter; the creature was a voluntary tool and said nothing when infested.

And thus, with her dark, almost black hair done up in intricate layers, bedecked with elegant stones that glittered as she moved, and with her satin gown meticulously pressed, she stepped into the polished sports-car and drove to the opera house alone, enjoying the exhilarating control and speed of the vehicle as she went. She took a deep breath; tonight she was not a Visser and would not think of herself as such. Instead, she was a young, successful, well-groomed woman attending a cultural performance of her own kind. She chuckled.

Hey, she could dream, couldn't she?

Upon reaching her destination, she left her car with the parking valet and sashayed up the grand steps leading to the building with such poise and grace she looked to be gliding on air. Heads turned, eyes drifted, women gossiped, and men leered. She was, by far, the most stunning woman within range of the opera house. In fact, as she entered, a well dressed gentleman bowed before her, directing with an outstretched palm towards the inner theater. She smiled, acknowledging him with a slight tilt of the head. Others she acknowledged as well in the same fashion, ducking her head with refinement to show civility, but nothing more.

She did not bow to these creatures. No, they bowed to her—though they didn't really know it.

As she passed beneath the giant chandelier bolted to the lofty ceiling, she thought of the rich, Venetian mask she had procured for just this occasion. She fastened the straps attached to the sides around her head, careful of her hair, and strode forth beyond the threshold of the main doors to her seat inside the theater.

People wore various types of masks, some garish, some elegant. Hers was crafted with a light material in intricate designs, covering half her face. It was pearl white, with a stylish ridge that started above the eyes and swirled to the other end, creating a half-hat in the likeness of a pirate's. Two roses were pinned under the right curve, one black, one red, and a veil of lacey, midnight cloth hung far below her chin from the sides, matching the dark rose and plumage that sprouted from the top.

She felt like a bird; a pretty, delicate bird with swift wings. Not a blind, helpless slug. But, _no_—she told herself she wouldn't think of that. _At least not for tonight_.

Taking her seat in one of the rows, she waited for the opera to start. It began slowly, the conductor waving the tempo with his baton and the orchestra following suit, a harmonious blend of notes that bounced off the acoustics of the hall to the audience's enchanted ears.

Edriss made herself comfortable in her seat, for once enjoying the magnificence surrounding her instead of strategically plotting ways to enslave and destroy it. Oh, if only that supercilious, egotistical _fool_ Visser Three could grasp the simple concepts of love and beauty—those fragile, yet terribly strong sensations that made the humans so intoxicating to control—maybe, just _maybe_, he wouldn't be such a petulant dunce.

Regardless, she mentally waved him aside to continue her enjoyment. No need wasting the night thinking of that one.

After the performance the singers and dancers bowed, and the audience took their leave to the outside hall for the post social gathering, complete with exquisite food and drink. Most had removed their masks during the show, including Edriss, but had put them back on to mingle in the crowds. She wrapped the lace shawl about her shoulder, clutching at her handheld purse—concealable dracon beam the size of a derringer insider—and made her way towards the food, plucking one of the hors d'oeuvres from a pewter tray and popping it in her mouth. It tasted delicious.

Next, she went for the wine. The theater had assembled a selection, quite the array: champagnes, cabernet sauvignons, chardonnays, merlots. She indicated to the Riesling bottle, a dry one, and the server poured her some.

Raising the tall glass to her nose, she swirled the liquid to breathe in its scent, then took a sip. As she let the glass fall from her lips she noticed a man. There was nothing particularly unique about him, and he wouldn't have seemed different otherwise, but in a roomful of masked people he stood out like a sore thumb—mainly because he wore no mask.

She watched him from a distance, curious. She witnessed another man—a tall blonde—approach him. The blonde man leaned in close, his face adorned with a half mask that revealed a subtle smile, but his advance was disregarded as the other man—the unmasked one—turned away. Edriss couldn't help but grimace; the poor blonde fellow had been outright rejected. She could see the coldness in the unmasked man's face, the aloof demeanor, the calm and stately poise.

Yet, regardless, she could tell he was the type to be easily moved if prodded the correct way. From a glance she could tell he was crude and emotional, passionate, somber. She could also tell he was bored.

She watched the unmasked man some more, moving closer, her eyes darting to the table, up to him, to the crowds, to him again. The closer she got the more she could study him in detail. Besides the lack of mask, he wore a tasteful, black suit with a white dress shirt and a black tie. His hair was wavy, black as night, and was slicked, softening his rather sharp carved features. He was certainly handsome by human standards.

Moving like a predator stalking it's pray, she slinked her way closer, glancing at him every chance she could. He held a wine glass with a wide bowl, swishing about the merlot she'd previously seen him request from a server. There was a certain elegance about him… something slight and elusive, strange for such a masculine figure, as if he were walking on delicate little hooves. She smirked, chalking it up to a type of metrosexual flair.

As she sipped her wine, she got closer until he was suddenly looking at her, catching her gaze with a pair of piercing, emerald eyes. She stopped, raised her brow, sipped her wine, and feigned disinterest at his obvious stare. She cocked her head as if to ask 'what are you looking at?', but he turned away as he'd done to the blonde man before her.

There was something about him she liked.

Eventually, he came to stand away from the crowd of prattling humans to survey the scene, his eyes like two chips of deep-green jasper. She approached him then, thinking her looks were all it would take to prompt a response from his frowning mouth.

But he didn't look at her.

She made sure to pose without being apparent, straightening her back to push her curves out and up, but he didn't so much as steal a glance. Oh-_ho_, this one was determined. Determined _not_ to look—and that meant he had _noticed_.

She cleared her throat. "Are you trying to make a statement?"

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Excuse me?"

"No mask," she said. "Is there a reason you wear no mask when the rest of us do?"

"I like to be seen," he replied. He turned fully towards her and lifted the wine glass to his lips. "I like to be known."

She raised a brow in question, eyeing him up and down. "Well, I can _see_ you. But, I'm sure I don't _know_ you. Perhaps your presence is lacking, good Sir."

His expression was severe for a quick moment, until, to her delight, he gave a smile and chuckled, his voice deep and hearty in his throat. She expected him to respond to her insult, but he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he turned away from her and walked towards the opposite side of the room. She made an effort not to be seen following.

The cat and mouse game continued. Twenty minutes later she found him again, bumping into him 'accidently', acting as if they hadn't spoken. He didn't take the opportunity. It was annoying.

But she had to admit she was having fun stalking this sophisticated man, and she could tell by his face that he was as well—he no longer looked quite so bored. It dawned on her then that he was playing with her as she was playing with him.

_How fun_.

She saw him sigh and made her move, crossing the space between them and dodging other members of the lingering audience to stand at his side. She stared, unflinching, even as he tried to look away.

Finally, after she'd stared long enough, he asked flat out, "Is there something you want?"

"Does this unmasked man have a name?" she asked in return.

He stayed quiet, his smile pulling his lips to reveal a straight row of small, white teeth. His canines were long, gleaming… wolfish. She motioned for him to answer, prodding him, but he simply picked up his coat from the holding station and walked out the doors. She followed, taking her time. He wouldn't leave now; he was interested.

Just as she had predicted, he was still there when she stepped outside, standing before a sleek limousine with a cell phone pressed to his ear. He saw her, spoke into the phone, and tapped the touch screen before sliding it into his pocket. He remained silent and smiled.

Just then the valet approached. "Would you like me to get your car for you, Miss?" he asked her.

She looked at him, then to the unmasked man beside the limo. "I'm not sure," she said, absently pressing her mask to her face. Then, projecting her voice, she said, "It depends on if some good gentleman would give a lady a ride."

The unmasked man smirked, opened his door, and ducked inside. She nearly cursed but noticed the door remained ajar.

An invite. Subtle, but an invite no less.

_Gentleman_, she though with a sneer, _Yes, _gentleman_ indeed._

Waving the objecting valet aside, she strode for the opened door and ducked in, slamming it shut behind her.

The unmasked man sat sprawled in the corner of the long interior couch, his face an unreadable expression. The driver looked in the rearview hesitantly.

"W-Where to, S-Sir?" he asked.

The unmasked man tilted his head to peer in Edriss's direction and shrugged, waiting.

Either he was a celebrity or a CEO or something. That Edriss had already guessed. But now, seeing the poor, frightened driver stumbling as he spoke, well, it said that this mysterious and silent man also had a bit of a reputation. He was likely harsh, possibly unpopular.

She kind of liked that.

"I'm hungry," she answered the driver. "Perhaps there's a nice restaurant nearby?"

The driver paused and glanced at the unmasked man as if to confirm his approval. The unmasked man simply crossed his leg over the other and stretched his arms out on the tops of the couch, letting a long breath exhale from his nose.

The driver put the car in gear and suddenly they were off.

After a few minutes, the unmasked man pressed the button to separate the driver from the passenger and leaned forward towards the limo's small interior bar. He kept his gaze clear of hers. It only made her want to see his eyes more.

"Alcohol?" he asked.

She gave him a weird look. Strange way to ask, she thought, but replied, "I'd love some," in the most alluring tone she could.

He still didn't meet her gaze.

Oh, this one was a _challenge_.

As he prepared her drink she sidled closer to him and crossed her legs, then took out her lipstick from within her purse. A blood-red color, dark and glistening. She slid it across her lips, then pretended to drop the cap on the floor. She reached, expecting him to as well, but he stayed upright with her drink in his hand. Though he didn't react the way she had wanted, she did however get a glimpse of his eyes. They were transfixed on her, but not in a way she had ever seen a man look at a woman before. There was an odd fascination therein, a detached, studious kind of interested.

But as his eyes traveled to the crest of her bust—which she had purposefully pushed out while reaching for the lipstick lid—his breath hitched, indicating that typical male amazement when seeing the curves of a woman.

That's when she knew she had him.

She righted herself and smiled, almost innocently, and stuck the now covered lipstick back in her purse. Then finally, _finally_, he said something unprovoked. "No need for the mask. The show is done. There is only me."

"Ah, but you wear a mask still," she replied, making no move to indulge him. "I see it now. You were masked the entire time."

He smirked and handed her the drink. She sipped it and almost spit it out. This was just _rum_. She looked up and saw a sudden dash of concern on his face, a darting look. "I forgot the coke," he said slowly.

She laughed, a good full laugh that make him chuckle with her. She gave him back the glass and slid closer to him, resting her hand on his thigh.

"It's quite alright," she said and grinned. "You were distracted."

As he leaned to fix her drink she turned his face and kissed him. She could feel him go rigid under her touch, as if he were frozen in place.

"How about we skip the restaurant and go straight for dessert?" she said with a purr into his ear.

He faltered, twitching away from her lips near his ear, and cleared his throat. "Take off the mask."

_Oh, come on_, she thought with amusement. _I have you now, don't act like you have the upper hand_. But she considered him and spoke. "Only if you take yours off as well. Tell me your name."

He hesitated, his eyes darting as if searching for something, then sat straight and calm. "Noah."

"I like that name," she said while eyeing him up and down. "I like it very much. Last?"

He shook his head. "Now it's your turn."

"Noah," she repeated, playing with it, tasting it like wine. "So… Noah likes to be known. Noah likes to be seen."

"And you, masked woman—you like to cower behind a façade it would seem."

"I like to blend," she said immediately, "I like to look like everyone else. It is the ultimate camouflage."

"And yet there's no one here to blend with now," he said with an upturn. "You're the one who sticks out, not me."

He had a point. She undid the strap that held the mask to her face and took it off with the other hand, resting it beside her. "Satisfied?"

He didn't answer her, but smirked.

They both arrived at the hotel shortly after he'd spoken to his driver, to which the driver had acknowledged with a 'yes, sir' and a reaction akin to fright. Their ride there was silent, save for the sighing she knew she was exaggerating. The game had been fun, but now she was getting annoyed. This human was dissimilar from most males. It made her want to crack him open to see what was inside. That was when the thought that he could be another, fellow Yeerk crossed her mind, and she had to admit it made a little sense.

Regardless, it wouldn't stop her from executing the plans she had for him. And she could sense her host was just fine with that; after all, he was quite a catch.

They strolled into the hotel—five star, expensive, elegant—and made a reservation with his card. Up the elevator to the last floor, they opened a door to one of the few penthouse suites in the hotel. It wasn't anything Edriss hadn't seen before, but it was still quite impressive.

Noah sauntered into the main room, throwing his coat over a fancy chair, and turned to look at her, his lips stretched into a cool smile. He lost the smile fast as she dove at him.

Perhaps it was unexpected of her to fall into bed with him so quickly, but she was no ordinary human with female fears. This man could think he was playing her all he wanted, it made no difference to her. What he got out of it, she got equally, maybe more so.

When he released and collapsed on top of her she held him in her arms, wondering how such a confident entrepreneur—he would _have_ to be to afford the room—could be so awkward during the initial stages of intercourse. It was not as if she had given him reason to be. His _manhood_ had been certainly adequate, if not a bit big, so it shouldn't have been that—though she knew human males were odd about such concerns.

_No matter_.

She held him close and kissed him, their tongues fighting for dominance, until she felt him harden again. She rolled him on his back and rode him, her body doing most of the work, yet her mind reaping the benefits at hearing the pleasant, slightly controlled groans from his lips.

Then his phone went off.

She stopped abruptly, his length mid-way inside her. His eyes opened, drowsy and half-lidded, and he groaned as he listened. After a fraction of a second, he said, "It's business." There was a hint of regret, but he suddenly became firm in his demeanor. "It will only take a moment."

With her body rigid from realization, she went to move off him, but his arm went around her waist and held her there while he reached and grabbed for the sleek, black phone.

"_What_?" he snapped into the receiver.

He said a few more words, but Edriss couldn't hear him. She couldn't keep attention—it all kept replaying in her mind. The ringtone. The _ringtone_. That blasted, familiar, _specific_ ringtone made for one type of persons _only_.

_Vissers_. Only _Vissers_ had access to _that_ ringtone.

Edriss made herself look at the man still inside her host body, a man so close she could feel his breath on her as he hung up the phone and tossed it without care across the room.

"So… where were we?" he said with a growl and bit her nipple.

She put her hand to her forehead, moaned in pain.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I… have a headache," she replied. "I don't know what—"

"Medicine," he interrupted her. "I will get you medicine." His eyes did that searching thing she should've known was the Yeerk inside flipping through the human host's brain for answers. "Advil," he specified. "I will get you some Advil. And water."

"Make it alcohol," she said. There was no better time to start drinking.

"But that causes dehydration. This is probably the root of your headache. Won't that make it worse?"

"Wine," she said and gripped her forehead. "_Wine_."

He rolled her systematically onto the couch and rose to his feet then went for the phone across the room. While he called for room service she watched him, knowing the stance, the voice, the small inflections, the gestures—they were all part of her fellow Yeerk's commands. They were _his_ personality traits, not the human's.

She should have seen something like this coming.

… But how _could_ she have?!

The Visser was not one to boast about taking any other creature in captivity other than his precious Andalite host—that hated and infamous war-criminal known as Alloran the Disgraced (whom she wouldn't be surprised if the Visser were secretly in love with).

Then she froze.

Would Esplin be that stupid? _Would he be that bold_?!

She recoiled on the couch as she stared at the man's turned back.

Not the Andalite! Gods, no!

No—_no, couldn't be_.

Then she sighed. It couldn't be Alloran. The Visser had been in her presence for more than two hours without a trip behind closed doors. Couldn't be the Andalite. But this was still her arch-rival standing across from her, nude, requesting aid on her behalf—after engaging in human reproductive activities, no less. His skin still shone lightly from the lingering sweat they'd built up.

"Your wine is on its way," he said, jerking her from her thoughts. He stepped into the bathroom and came back with two white pills. "No Advil," he explained. "Tylenol."

She nodded and took the pills from him carefully as if she were afraid to touch him. The thought seemed absurd considering she had spent the previous hour doing just that. He let a small, near indistinguishable sigh escape his nose and sank into a nearby chair, and from then Edriss realized she felt a strange sense of kinship she had never before experienced with a member of her own race. Not since Essam.

Yeerks did not bond to their siblings in any real sense; they had too many and their culture was not encouraging of sentimental relations between each other, but the way her heart—her actual Yeerk heart—pulled at her when seeing his shoulders sag was indescribable.

They could never be like this. Ever.

Two tank Yeerks, two separate beings, two minds that yearned for so much, and they could never hold each other—though the thought of holding that bastard made her cringe. Yet the mere fact that even if they ever wanted to they _couldn't _made her spirit sink. They wanted to live just as any other sentient life. They wanted to touch, feel, smell, taste, and see. They wanted that joy; how could they not? Could it just be for now that he was another longing Yeerk like herself and not some high ranking Visser set on the enslavement of an intelligent people?

It was then that Edriss eased her host body against the cushions of the suite's couch, her mind made up that she wouldn't say anything about her true identity. At least, not until he figured it out; if he ever did. The wine came and she drank it, downing the first glass in three large gulps. She offered him some. He refused at first, then, as she prodded him, gave in and joined her. The wine helped.

"Does this unmasked woman have a name?" he asked, repeating her previous question.

Edriss thought for a moment. A breath came out as a laugh, but she stifled it before it sounded offensive. She caught his jade eyes, concentrating, trying to see the Yeerk inside, and smiled. "Maybe, Noah," she said. "You'll just have to prod _deeper_ for it."

He smirked. "I'm rather good at prodding." He swept his hand over the side of her face, tracing her jawbone, his thumb lingering at her ear.

"I'm not so sure."

He rubbed her earlobe between his fingers. "Oh, trust me; I can get deep in there. It's a _talent_ of mine."

"Then why don't you come over here and _fuck_ me."

The blush that spread across his cheeks confirmed her choice that lying to him had been a good idea; this farce was too enjoyable not to abuse. They started, and he was oddly gentle up until she slapped him—then it was war. With their lips snarled, their pointed, human teeth bared, she let him take her from behind and bite at her exposed neck, though her hand snaked up into his hair and pulled far too hard to be considered pleasurable. That only made his teeth sink down and his hips thrust more furiously. When he released it was like an animal clawing at her skin; his nails dug into her yielding flesh while his back arched, screaming incoherencies into the air—though she picked up on the hushed words '_… my veleek…_' woven in with the other fragmented statements.

My veleek. _My pet_. She almost laughed. _How sweet_.

He was twitching by the time they were done, as if volts of electricity were being pumped through his body, and she knew the little Yeerk inside was reeling from the euphoric sensations each neuron transmitted throughout his host's brain. It was a wonder they could control their hosts at all after such intense feelings.

In fact, he was so unaware in the aftermath of his release that Edriss believed she could have killed him right then and there.

She smiled at the thought and stroked the damp bangs from his sweating brow. The sensation brought him shifting close to encircle his arms around her waist as they lay on the hotel's large bed. She didn't remember their move from the couch, but apparently it happened. He snuggled her, rubbing his cheek against her stomach, humming absently, a purring cat lost in the tender caress of a warm sun's rays. The rush of endorphins left him docile and carefree. She ran her hand through his dark hair, and minutes later he fell asleep, his head resting on her rising and falling abdomen as if it were a pillow.

Of course the fantasy had to end, she knew. It started when his phone went off again, resounding from the other room.

He flinched and rose up, his eyes searching his environment, shedding the sleepiness from his mind with a quick shake. He staggered off the bed, stumbling through the doorway into the next room as if she weren't there. She could hear him snap another peevish '_what_' into the phone, then heard the familiar sound of liquid being drained into a toilet bowl. She strained to listen as he spoke.

"What _about_ it?" he said. Pause. "Well, figure it out, you _fool_. Distract her or something until I return." Pause. "Are you questioning me? No? I thought we had a problem, because that sounded quite like a question." Another pause. "What do you _mean_ she arrived yesterday? I'm getting tired of your babbling. Do I have to end my business elsewhere simply because you need me to come and shorten you a _head_?" Pause. "She left? An opera? Then where is… she…"

The rest of the Visser's words were clipped and hushed. Edriss waited for him. It didn't take long. He stepped into the room, the color drained from his face, his mouth hanging open. She could see the thoughts flitting in his head—did she know who he was?

For a moment she let him think he was the wiser, smiling warmly at him, a smile free of any malice or contempt, a human smile. When he eased she unloaded the truth, hoping it would hit him like a sack of bricks.

"How is your first in command, Visser?" she asked. She fondled the sheets. "Sounds like he's unfit for the position. Should we rectify that? I have one you might like, good at taking commands, unquestioning, quick wit—"

He let out a rage-filled scream and turned to slam a fist into the wall. The plaster caved under his knuckles. They came out bloody. "'You'll just have to prod _deeper_'," he repeated in a mock tone. a snarl curled his lips in disgust. "I have a _headache_. Madra be merciful, I should have known it from the moment I looked into your eyes, you treacherous _vanarx_."

She barked a playful laugh. "Oh, Visser, don't be vexed. Let us skip the lover's spat and talk this over. Come—" She patted the mattress, "—sit, my veleek."

She knew that would get him, but she didn't know how well. He seethed in front of her, oozing such hatred she knew that if he had that swift Andalite blade her head would most certainly be rolling on the floor. And he would die of Kandrona starvation—once the council dug into why she was dead. She grinned.

Without a word, he stormed from the room, jaw set so firmly she thought he might break his host's pretty, white teeth, the veins in his neck raised with the rush of blood flowing to coat his cheeks in angry red. It would have been smart to let him be, but she wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to soak up his humiliation. When she passed through the doorway to the other room, sheet draping her figure, she found him sitting on one of the plush chairs in a black robe with the wine bottle clutched in his hand. As she approached he took a long swig, his gaze fixing across the room, avoiding her.

She reached for the wine, leaning over him with a smirk, and as she took the bottle she noticed his jaw jutting back and forth and his nostrils flaring. His other hand clenched the armrest of the chair.

"Oh, lighten up, Esplin," she said to him, pouring the last of the wine into her previously abandoned glass. She knelt by his chair and dabbed the sheet about her shoulders on his bleeding knuckles, but he recoiled like a viper readying to strike, nearly hissing at her touch.

"The council will hear of your wicked treachery," he said. "They'll _starve_ you for this insolence, Edriss, they'll make you _suffer_ so—"

"Will they?" she interrupted. "And is that before or after they grant you the same fate. Maybe they'll starve us together. You needn't be afraid, my veleek, I'll hold your hand."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Stop being so theatrical."

The Visser put his palms to his face and rubbed, groaning. No doubt the realities of his situation were setting in. "I despise you…" he whispered beneath the cover of his hands.

"And I you." She went for the hotel phone and called room service. For the second time that evening a hotel attendant came and brought the requested items—a plate of light pastries, a slice of cheesecake, fruit, caramels, two cups of hot tea, chocolates and of course more sweet wine.

She took the tray from the cart and set it on the coffee table near the couch, diagonal from the brooding Visser's chair. He eyed the tray, contempt stewing in his aloof body language. Edriss paid him no mind and took a chocolate covered strawberry from the tray, biting into it and savoring the flavor. He remained cross in his chair.

After a minute Edriss spoke. "Hear me out, Esplin. We have options. We can sit here and spit venom at each other like two prideful Helmacrons, _or_… we can enjoy each other's company as civilized beings."

That got him laughing. "You expect me to _enjoy_ the company of someone I absolutely _loathe_? Visser, do you really think me _that_ capable? I never knew you had such faith in my abilities. You're ridiculous, Edriss. And a traitor. What a splendid combination. Hah! No self-respecting Yeerk would ever propose such a ludicrous—"

She was already sick of listening to him, so she bent towards the tray of food and flicked the almond topping one of the pastries in his direction. It hit its mark, bouncing off his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but she didn't stop there. The cheesecake she had thought he might accept—and might, just _might_, have let her feed him—soon coated his handsome features. He drew back but her palm smothered the substance in his face further making him stumble from his seat to get away. By the time he had gained back enough of his composure she was laughing so hard she could barely hear his threats.

"—_for your insolence_!" was the last thing he got out before she decided to steal his mouth. Of course he resisted, jerking aside from her smirk with such force she thought he might topple backwards. She snatched him, making his lips pucker like a fish's as her hand gripped each side of his jaw. "Be still," she said. Now, she knew there was one of two ways the Visser would react to what he would consider an enraging gesture; either he would get very, very angry, or he would simply stare stupidly until his feeble brain caught on. Fortunately, he did the latter.

Edriss did not let the opportunity slip—she shooed him into the bathroom with a series of shoves and abrupt commands before he could even comprehend what was happening. She turned on the shower, tore off his midnight robe, opened the glass divider and pushed him through. He slipped and slammed his shoulder against the tiled wall, cursing in the guttural sound of their native tongue, but she disregarded it and shed the sheet wrapped around her figure to hop in after him.

"_What are you doing_?!" he shrieked as she began clearing the dessert from his face. He fought her until a soggy piece of cheesecake found its way into his mouth via her thumb, then stopped resisting altogether when the flavors came alive. As he paused, swallowing the morsel, Edriss had to ask herself: had he ever had cheesecake as a human before? Or within the morphed form of his traitorous Andalite host for that matter? From the look of his widening eyes she thought no.

Cheesecake, she had discovered, was quite dangerous. Even her air-headed host pined over its taste but refused to eat it because of its 'calories'.

Edriss smiled as she watched the now delighted Visser begin to lick at the remains of the sweet dessert from his lips, face and fingers. It was the perfect time to seize his mouth yet again. He reciprocated, but only for a moment. When he could speak he choked on his words. "What if the council finds—"

"Are you going to _tell_ them?" she replied curtly.

"Not if you—"

"_Good_."

He was silenced once more.

Maybe it was the stressful job of being a high-ranking, straight-laced Visser—always watched by the eyes of the council—or perhaps it was simply because they had never had the wonderful ache of arousal lacing through their bellies, but for whichever reason neither Yeerk ceased the kiss, and soon it brought them back to the king-sized mattress where they'd been intimate before.

Afterward Esplin lay sprawled and spent, his eyes closed and his breath heavy, while Edriss sat propped up against the silk pillows, flipping through the idle human propaganda on the room's large-screen television. As the commercials spewed their nonsense, she stealthily stole glances at her rival's resting figure, reminding herself that when morning came everything in this moment would be a just another silent memory, a buried secret forever binding them both. She sidled down to his level, resting her head against his, their temples touching, and snaked the fingers that would never be hers through the one's that would never be his.

Thoughts of what she was not overwhelmed her, and she let out a shuddering sigh.

"No one will ever know," he said.

Was that supposed to comfort her? Who cared? She would never truly be able to touch someone like this. Ever. "So, you don't regret it…" There was no need for questions; he had made it clear he wanted every traitorous deed they had just committed.

He didn't answer her. Instead he began tracing her hand the way she was tracing his, then, unknowingly, they were both gazing up at the two contrasting appendages as each caressed one another's—hers so feminine, as lace, while his were strong, reminding her of roughened leather.

When he broke the silence he surprised her. "I've always longed to be an Andalite. Their world is so much brighter than ours."

The statement was staggeringly forward; she almost couldn't find the words to respond. "I've always wanted to be human," she finally replied.

"Hm," he said.

She bit her lip. "Since we're indulging secrets… I've often wondered why we—you and I— why we… did not become allies."

"Possibly because we hate each other?"

"Hm."

Little did she know he would use those same words to try and trap her into saying something treasonous while on trial—but she liked to think it a strange, hateful, yet deviously romantic gesture of remembrance on his part.

The rest of their time that night was spent delighting in desserts, more cheesecake (which her host begged her not to eat, lest she get fat), wine, and each other, until dawn shown throw the thicket of tall, city buildings from east window. She went to the bathroom to relieve herself. When she came out he was gone. The next she saw him it was as if nothing had happened. He was the same arrogant, over-the-top, pride-filled, tactless Visser she knew him to be, and she in turn played along, but inside she knew. And she knew he did too.

When their meeting was finished, and her time on Earth through, she had retired to her separate chambers aboard the transfer vessel that would take her back to the commanding pool ship residing in deep space. Things were getting interesting in this little war. Though all she wanted was to just sleep in the familiar home of her true host's body.

But when she had entered her quarters, she found the same mask she had worn to the opera propped up next to a dark vase on the lone table in the middle of the room. In the vase had been a single deep, deep red rose—shadow black. She had approached it slowly, noticing the folded piece of paper next to the vase.

In it was a message written in flowing, elegant hand:

_This is not a peace offering. In fact, I hope you never make it back to the pool ship. You are scum. I shall rejoice the day you die._

_VT_

She laughed then.

But her laughter melted as the memory faded. And at present she was back in her pathetic slug-like body, her world about to be crushed by a child's foot. But she thought of him then, and even in all his rejoicing, she knew, someday, he would follow her into death, as lace needed the contrast of leather, and it vice versa.

But not yet.

Let her savor the peace of the afterlife before he got there.


End file.
